


Blood and Wine

by kilaem



Series: Art Shorts [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Fanart, M/M, Snippet, Vampire Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:37:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilaem/pseuds/kilaem
Summary: Some say we strayed from the path of virtue, and the gods sent the beast to teach us a lesson.





	Blood and Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dexterous_Sinistrous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/gifts).



> originally posted 20/05/2018
> 
> also! an actual fic based off the same characters and universe [Blood Like Wine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15312972/chapters/35527293)

The guard’s body tumbled down the stairs, lifeless, as Derek panted for breath against the door. The stench of blood lingering in the air was dizzying, but he paid it little attention. Blood never affected him the way it had with Boyd for a time, never something so addicting that it was worth losing himself to it. His claws retracted as he took a moment to collect himself, his features shrinking back to human, but Derek kept his eyes shut for just a few seconds more as he pushed the door open.

And there he stood. After years, they were no longer apart. “Stiles!” Derek rushed forward, taking his face in his hands, scanning him intently for injuries — yet all he could find was the evidence of the years that passed and the reminder of how quickly humans aged. “Are… Are you hurt? If any of them…”

“You know me. I’d never let them hurt me,” Stiles smiled weakly, his voice wavering in disbelief. His accent was music to Derek’s ears as his arms curled around Derek’s waist, clutching onto him. “I just waited for you to come.”

“I… I didn’t know where to look,” Derek pulled Stiles into his arms without a second of hesitation, holding him as tightly as he could without hurting him, “They threatened to kill you… I…” The words caught in his throat and Derek pulled back to look at him, before his own shame took over and he could no longer meet his eye. “Forgive me. I failed you.”

“No, no you—” Stiles cut himself off as the Boyd and that witcher, Allison, ran into the room, a frown forming on his brow as he warily took them in.

Derek could not help his gaze, drawn as it was to Stiles, only half paying attention to the words the other two shared.

_“…Told me where I’d find Mieczyslaw…”_

His own part in this was fulfilled, he had Stiles once more, and he could stop the killings forced upon him. But watching Stiles’ expression go carefully blank pulled Derek into the words being exchanged.

“Said he was in a room with a tower… very one we’re in right now. Which, incidentally, looks nothing like a prison cell,” Allison spoke, staring fixedly at the roaring fireplace, while Boyd’s attention shifted over to him and Stiles. “And it just so happens there’s a carafe full of wine here. Bet its stolen Sangreal.”

Derek noticed the roll of Stiles’ eyes and the tick in his jaw, how tightly he was holding himself now compared to how relaxed he was when it was just them in the room. He could practically see the gears turning in Stiles’ head, but he could not guess what the man was thinking. But by his expression it couldn’t be good.

“What’s your point?” Stiles asked sharply, turning to her.

“Stop playing dumb. I know everything. Your plan, that this was part of it.”

“Witcher, what is this?” Derek lowly interjected, stepping closer to Stiles.

“Sorry, Derek.” Allison spoke frankly, “You’ve been had.”

He knew that the witcher was Boyd’s dear friend, but that did not stop him from shifting to stand in front of Stiles, his fingers itching for another fight with the hunter. Stiles wouldn’t. There was no way.

“My friend, please… You must listen to what Allison has to say,” Boyd said quietly, never taking his eyes off of Derek even as he moved to intercept him if need be.

“Stiles isn’t his real name. This is Mieczyslaw, and Mieczyslaw is cousin to Lydianna Henrietta, the duchess of Toussaint.”

Derek began to pace as she spoke, making sure to keep Stiles to his back; out of danger, out of harm’s way. Protected. He could feel the anger rolling under his skin, trailing up his spine. His fangs itched at his gums. “Wh… What nonsense is this?”

“Mieczyslaw was the heir but was banished as a child… But it seems he trekked back here recently. Moved into Dun Tynne and ran a vandaguild out of here,” the witcher spoke bluntly, her eyes following each of Derek’s steps.

“You think you’ve got it all figured—”

“Sent a man called The Cintrian to Beauclair,” she interrupted Stiles, not giving him a second to speak. “To steal some wine for him, wine reserved for the ducal family. Cintrian led us to him. Caught him later stealing a jewel Mieczyslaw had gotten from his mother as a child.”

Derek stopped pacing, staring at the fire as the thoughts rushed through his head. It wasn’t true. What sort of human would think to even  _try_ manipulate a vampire?

“Sorry, Derek. He used you. Part of his plan.”

“My name… is Stiles,” he spat quietly, fury lacing his words.

His eyes went to Stiles, silently pleading for anything other than a confirmation. But his eyes were hard until they met Derek’s, turning soft and pained, his lips parting to offer an explanation. And then… Stiles looked down. A sharp exhale left Derek as he turned to the window, his fingers gripping the window pane as he looked at the night outside. The bodies littering the grounds that he and Boyd had murdered to help Allison, all for nothing.

Stiles’ footsteps echoed quietly, no doubt too soft for a human to hear, but his heartbeat was faster than Derek had ever heard it. He tried to beat down the fury he felt, turning his head to the sound of his approach, when a hand gently settled on his shoulder.

It was faster than Derek anticipated to move, red colouring his vision, his hand going to the throat faster than the blink of an eye. Hands scrabbled at his own, fingers trying to pry away from the skin when the red dissipates, leaving a terrified Stiles in its wake. Derek releases him as fast as he can, but the sound of Stiles gasping for air rings in his ears.

The sickening, hollow feeling in Derek’s gut swells with disgust at himself. It’s more intense than it has ever been, more so than the forced killings he did under the threat of Stiles’ life. He cannot take his eyes off of him, unable to deny the truth, but there’s more than fear in Stiles’ expression. His own fury, but it’s not directed at Derek.

“You will come to Tesham Mutna and explain all. If you do not, I will raze Beauclair to the ground. This I promise you,” Derek steps towards him, eyes lingering on the bruises already forming around his neck.  Stiles flinches away from him, and he wants nothing more than to cut his own hand off again, to banish it for being the thing that hurt Stiles, even for a moment. Even after knowing. “You’ve three days. I shall be waiting.”

Stiles doesn’t move from the wall, his eyes following Derek as he shifted away, stalking towards the window before vanishing into a faint trail of smoke. His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts at once, trying to figure out his best course of action.

“He just fly off?” Allison asked in bewilderment, the silence in the room shattering.

“He did not wish to act rashly. He’s gone to soothe his nerves,” Boyd said, his stare feeling like judgement on Stiles’ skin.

As if he was any help; Stiles had noticed him halt the witcher from drawing her sword when Derek had him by the throat. He would probably like nothing more than to see Stiles as a lifeless corpse. Derek was his friend, after all. They would have an unlimited lifetime to sort out their differences. Stiles slowly stepped towards the window, taking in the night sky and the darkness of the world. How he longed to see the beauty of this foul place, after so many years of avoiding it.

Allison spoke quietly, talking to Boyd, but now there was an urgency to it. “Think he’ll do it—make good on his threat?”

“I cannot say. He can be unpredictable when fury consumes him.”

“I shall go to him,” Stiles rasped, voice hoarse.

Boyd looked at him with evident surprise, “Come again? After what he just…?”

“You don’t know Derek like I do,” he said as he turned to face them, slowly gaining his strength back. Stiles shook his head, knowing it was the right thing. If he didn’t, Derek would believe the worst of him. “If I don’t do as he says… he truly will destroy the city. He’s more than capable of it.”

“Seems you’ve got some last scraps of honor left,” Allison said, her words leaving a sour wake in Stiles’ chest.

“ _Honor_ means nothing this godforsaken place,” he sneered, the fury he had held back finally unleashed. “Tell me, do you trust a trail of breadcrumbs so obviously laid out for you? You’re a fucking fool. Whatever Derek does now, is on you. If you had just let me explain—”

“Your cousin hired me to—”

“They were going to hurt Lydia—and my  _father_! I had no choice!”


End file.
